Singe brightened instantly. That hadn't occurred to her. Yet. It would have. She sniff-sniff-sniffed, then headed out.
"Not only brilliant and talented and beautiful but fast as well," Morley whispered. "You don't want to let this one get away."
"Did Marengo North English and Bondurant Altoona rub off on you?" He was ragging me at Singe's expense.
"Whoa!" He started to argue but decided against. "All right. Let's abuse the parrot." Who, conveniently, wasn't around to defend himself. He'd chosen to stay behind. Apparently. I was always the last to know what that overdressed crow was up to. Or even what that critter who figured everything out for him was up to, for that matter. We were in for some headbutting after this mess settled out.
"Wish you'd decided that a year ago. Then maybe held him underwater to see how long he could go without breathing." Singe flinched. She still wasn't used to our banter. It always took her a moment to realize we weren't really about to skin each other. "I'm thinking about spiking your goulash with catnip. Then you'd wake up married to Winger."
"Couldn't. She's already got a husband somewhere. And I'm engaged."
"Really? When did that happen?"
"Oh, back before I was born. I just don't talk about it much. My grandparents arranged it. They were immigrants. They stuck to the old ways. They still try to."
"I'll bet you're a major disappointment."
"They weep human tears at every family gathering."
"When are you supposed to start making this poor woman miserable?"
"Oh, a long time ago. But she never showed up for the ceremony."
"Smart woman."
"She just hadn't met me. If she had... I don't know if I could've talked my way out of that. The old folks are stubborn as rocks. They still carry on like it was my fault. They can't blame it on Indalir's family. They have royal blood. As if every elf who ever walked doesn't, the way those people tumble anybody who can't outrun them."
"I'm glad you aren't the kind of lowlife who finds women interesting."
"Definitely one weakness you can't pin on me."
Pular Singe stopped. She turned slowly, nostrils flaring. Morley shut up and began searching the night, too. He loosened his swordcane. I said, "I hoped they'd lose us because of those tunnels."
Singe said, "No. Not watchers. It is the two evil men who escaped. They met the wagon here." She dropped to all fours, circled, sniffed.
I muttered, "Coincidence? Or prearrangement?"
Morley asked the important question. "How could they know where she'd be? She didn't know. She was just running."
"If she thought tonight might be the end of her run, she might've had somebody waiting outside. Who's going to pay any attention to a dwarf making a beer run?"
"There is the smell of fear," Singe said. "Mostly from the driver but also from the woman. I think she did not expect to encounter the evil men."
"She wouldn't want to run into them," Morley said. "After what they've been through they'd have a few bones to crack with her."
"If they got this far, I'll bet it was because they were allowed to," I said. "There'll be somebody else on this trail real soon, Singe. Probably the little man who tries so hard to hide who he is."
Morley tested his cane again. "You carrying anything?"
"I'm not military but I'm fixed." I did wish that I had my head-knocker. I needed to have some more of those made up.
"Notice the streets are empty."
"They're never busy down here. And there were centaurs around. Maybe there still are." It was unusually quiet, though.
Singe squeaked. "Blood. The direction changes. That way."
"I'm blind here," I reminded them. "I'm cursed with human eyes."
"Over there," Singe said.
I went. Morley followed. He confessed, "Her eyes are better than mine, too."
The treasure at the end of this dark rainbow was a broken dwarf. He wasn't dead but that was only because Crask and Sadler hadn't felt any urgent need to kill him. They'd only wanted his wagon. We left him for Master Relway. Singe picked up the trail again. She wasted no time getting on with the hunt.
The cynic in me, or maybe the practical businessman, told me I had to get in good with her now because she was going to be a phenomenon later. All she needed was a little more confidence, a little more experience, and a little more force of personality.
I kept up, puffing. I gasped, "I'm worn-out. These last few days just never made much sense. Everybody I know was mixed up in it, all of them banging off each other and getting in each other's way... "
"Sometimes the world works that way, Garrett," Morley replied. "When everybody heads a different direction nobody gets anywhere."
I understood that but it didn't satisfy my sense of propriety. Everybody jumped into the mud. They all clawed and slashed in squalid pettiness, all the while espousing grand ideals.
I grunted. Morley chuckled, then said, "Here you go launching another clipper of despair because all the humans you know act like human beings."
We really are a tribe of sleazeballs but I don't like being reminded of it. It would be nice to believe that at least some of us are climbing toward the light without pursuing a hidden agenda.
Singe slowed. I took the opportunity to recapture my breath before it got away completely. The ratgirl whispered, "The wagon is just ahead." I knew that. I heard its iron-rimmed wheels banging the cobblestones. "It is a small one drawn by two ponies." Which was no surprise, dwarves not being inclined toward big wagons and plowhorses. "I smell fresh blood."
The coldness that always comes when I think about Crask and Sadler began to engulf me. I was almost superstitious about those guys. I wasn't, strictly speaking, scared of them but I dreaded a confrontation because facing them was like challenging forces of nature.
Morley observed, "They'll still be in bad shape. Their jail time couldn't have been any holiday." In tone more than word he sounded like he wanted to convince himself. So maybe he had his own reservations.
The villians had set a course headed north. Soon they'd leave this quiet neighborhood for one where the night people thronged. Nobody likes to work with strangers looking over their shoulders. We had to do something soon.
"You go along the right side and grab the driver," Morley said. "I'll take the left."
"Me?"
"You're taller and heavier. You'll have more leverage."
No point arguing with the obvious. "Now?"
"Without all that stomping. You don't want them to know you're coming."
Stomping? I wasn't making a sound. All I could hear was the whisper of Singe's nails on the paving stones.
Now there was enough diffuse light that I could make out vague shapes and keep from crashing into walls and watering troughs. Soon I made out the dwarf wagon. Morley loped beside me, in step. I murmured, "I see it."
"Do it."
My heartbeat increased rapidly. This confrontation had haunted me for years.
From somewhere came a loud, "Awk!" in distinct parrotese. It didn't sound like a warning so it must have been only to let me know there was a friendly witness. Which wasn't much comfort since it was hardly possible for reinforcements to arrive in time if I screwed up.
Singe must've been more scared than she let on. She began to fall behind.
Any noise I made got covered by the curses of the man driving. He couldn't get those stubborn ponies to move faster than a walk. Dwarf ponies have one speed. Slow. The only alternative gait is dead stop, inevitably exercised in the event of excessive brutality.
Funny. Dwarf ponies are a whole lot like dwarves.
I grabbed the driver's right arm, used my momentum to pull him down. I couldn't tell which man I'd grabbed but that didn't really matter. Crask and Sadler might as well have been twins. I didn't see the other one. He had to be inside the wagon, probably in worse shape.